Dear Diary,
He asked me to dance with him.
No music.
No lights.
Just us.
In the quiet.
In the almost-dark.
In the place between living and leaving.
And I said yes.
Because when someone you love is disappearing right in front of you, you don't say no.
You just hold them tighter.
And try to remember the shape of their breath.
1:14 PM
He looked better today.
Not strong — not really — but alert.
Like maybe the pain had dulled for a moment.
Like the weight of goodbye had lifted slightly just long enough for him to smile.
"I've been thinking," he said when I walked in.
"That's dangerous."
He smiled.
"You remember how you told me once that dancing was how you know someone's soul?"
I nodded.
"It's true."
He paused.
Then said, "I want to dance with you."
I froze.
Here?
Now?
He nodded.
"No music," he added. "Just you."
I wanted to say no.
Because he looked too fragile.
Because I didn't want to break him.
Because I didn't want to break.
But instead, I whispered, "Okay."
1:47 PMHe stood slowly.
His legs trembled.
His arm curled around mine.
"I might step on you," he said.
"I don't care."
He laughed softly.
Held my hand.
And then… we moved.
Not a dance, really.
Just swaying.
Barely.
Breathing in sync.
His head rested on my shoulder.
And I thought: This is what forever feels like when you know it's running out.
2:02 PM
We didn't talk.
We didn't need to.
His breath was shallow.
His body warm.
But fading.
I could feel it — the distance growing between each heartbeat.
But he was still here.
Still mine.
And for that moment, that sway, that silence…
We were everything we could've been.
2:23 PM
He pulled back a little.
Looked up at me.
His eyes were watery.
"I love you," he whispered.
I touched his cheek.
"I know."
"You saved me."
"You saved me first."
"I'm not scared anymore."
I smiled through tears.
"You never had to be."
"But I was," he said. "I was scared I wouldn't matter."
"You mattered more than anything."
2:48 PM
We sat down after that.
He was too tired to stand.
But his eyes stayed on me.
Like I was the last color in his world.
"I wish I could draw this," he whispered.
"This?"
"You. Right now."
"Why?"
"Because this is how I want to remember you."
Alive.
Lit by late-afternoon sun.
Not crying — just watching him with more love than grief.
But the grief was there.
It always is now.
3:01 PM
I read to him again.
Old diary entries.
He smiled at the silly ones.
Laughed at his own bad jokes.
And when I read:
"May 3 – Our Hands Almost Touched"
He whispered, "That was the moment."
"What moment?"
"I knew you'd undo me."
I didn't know whether to smile or cry.
So, I did both.
3:47 PM
We ate a little.
Or rather, I did.
He sipped tea.
Held the cup with both hands like it might float away.
But he looked peaceful.
Like maybe love was stronger than fear today.
4:16 PM
He asked me to lie down next to him.
I curled into the bed.
He held my hand.
And we stayed like that for hours.
He told me stories.
Memories.
Talked about the ocean.
About his favorite teacher.
About the first time he saw me and thought, She looks like a storm I'd walk into anyway.
I wanted to record it all.
But I didn't.
Because I knew some moments aren't meant to be saved.
They're meant to be felt.
5:41 PM
He dozed off.
His breathing was slower.
I watched his chest.
Rising.
Falling.
Rising…
…falling.
And I counted.
Because it helps.
It keeps the panic from crushing my ribs.
6:03 PM
He stirred.
Eyes fluttered open.
Looked confused.
"I thought you left."
"I never will."
He smiled.
"You say that like you mean it."
"I do."
He nodded.
Closed his eyes again.
And whispered something too soft to hear.
I leaned in.
But he had already slipped back into sleep.
6:44 PM
I stayed longer than usual.
The nurse said he was stable.
But I could see it.
The fading.
The fragility.
The way the space around him felt like it was stretching.
Making room for something final.
7:33 PM
I kissed his forehead.
Pulled the blanket up higher.
And as I turned to leave, he opened his eyes.
Just barely.
And said, "Mi-Chan?"
"Yes?"
He smiled.
But it wasn't joy.
It was memory.
"I forgot to tell you…"
I paused.
Waited.
But he never finished the sentence.
His eyes closed again.
And I stood frozen in the doorway, waiting for him to speak.
For him to breathe.
To say what he forgot.
But he didn't.
And now…
Now I don't know if he ever will.
I don't know what he was going to say.
I don't know if he'll wake up tomorrow.
I don't know if I'll ever hear his voice again.
But I know this:
We danced.
We danced in silence.
We danced in the shadow of death.
And in that moment, we were alive.
Completely.
Utterly.
Painfully.
Alive.
– Mi-Chan